32. NOTE
[Chris is at his desk, drunk, head resting on his arms. The moment the clock ticks over past midnight, he frowns. Something is off. Oh. OH. RIGHT. And thus, the Network is treated to this:]
IT WERE A CURSE
A CURSE.
WERENT IN ME RIGHT MIND
[Then he groans. He needs to be more drunk. But he's out of alcohol and he doesn't want to have to get up. So he just rests his head on his arms again.]
[ooc: You may notice Chris's writing get gradually worse. That's just me, trying to work out how to write as badly as Chris does. Imagine that it's been horrendous all along. Not only is he semi-illiterate but he's DRUNK.]
IT WERE A CURSE
A CURSE.
WERENT IN ME RIGHT MIND
[Then he groans. He needs to be more drunk. But he's out of alcohol and he doesn't want to have to get up. So he just rests his head on his arms again.]
[ooc: You may notice Chris's writing get gradually worse. That's just me, trying to work out how to write as badly as Chris does. Imagine that it's been horrendous all along. Not only is he semi-illiterate but he's DRUNK.]